Is it or isn't it??

Our next major project while we wait for Tall Drink of Water contractor to remove our walls is to get our kitchen floor level.

This will be no easy task since there are multiple layers of linoleum in different parts of the space. You may be saying, "So rip it out already." Easier said than done because of one terrifying word: asbestos. Once touted as a miracle substance, asbestos was later found to be a major carcinogen.

But what exactly is the definition of "later"? From what I can find on-line, asbestos was widely revealed as a bad, bad mineral in the '70's but was not banned right away. And even after its use was prohibited in manufacturing, retailers continued to sell flooring with asbestos backing at bargain prices, kind of a two-for-one deal -- new flooring AND cancer for one low price.

The EPA says that if your house was built before 1980 (ours was constructed in 1978), there's a good chance that asbestos is hiding somewhere. Fabulous. But it's only a problem if you start fiddling with it. It's like a sleeping giant -- as long as you leave it alone, you're fine. But I fear we may have already stirred the monster from his nap with the removal of the ceramic tiles that were on top of the linoleum.

So is it asbestos, or isn't it? There's no easy way to tell. My job today is to find an impartial testing facility (I'm sure hoping there's a government agency that does this kind of work -- just guessing asbestos abatement companies might not be so impartial).

If it IS asbestos, we're looking at potentially thousands of dollars for proper removal. If it weren't for our daughter, LevelHead Jr., I might just forget it and pour some leveling compound on top and be done with it. But the idea of her breathing cancer-causing air everyday makes me sick to my stomach.

So I'll do the right thing. Hey, what's one more budget-buster??

Good and Bad News

I met with the highly recommended contractor yesterday. We'll call him Tall Drink of Water. He had to be at least 6'7", but all his vertical-ness was very nice and seemingly honest. and I liked him a lot.

He looked at the structural engineer's specs and had a lot of questions, so I didn't feel quite as dopey as I had when first looking at them myself. But he's worked with the comically challenged engineer before, so he is going to call him and get the real scoop.

So what's the bad news? Because Tall Drink of Water is trustworthy and oh-so-in-demand, he can't start the job for three weeks. Super bummer. But I guess I'd rather have someone that other people want, rather than a guy who says he can start right after his court date.

The other bad news is that taking down the walls is going to cost more than double what I had estimated (when I thought there was only one wall that had load-bearing issues). Luckily, I've built in a 25% contingency fund for these unforeseen costs. Unluckily, I've now found out I should have set aside more like 35%.

But, as I've previously stated, opening up those walls is the whole reason we bought the house, so if we have to eat beanie-weenies for the next year to recoup our costs, so be it.

I also dropped off a pseudo-contract to our cabinet maker yesterday. He showed me a sample of my chosen door style in his workshop, and I handed over our first major check of the adventure. He's going to make any needed changes to the contract, we'll sign, and then he'll start. I know, I know, I should have waited until we signed the papers before handing over the $$, but he's such an honest guy, I think I'll be OK. Oh, I just had a major tingle down my spine, like that's going to be my first line on our Judge Judy small claims court appearance.

Today, I'm all about making a list of things we need to get accomplished while we wait for Tall Drink of Water to do his thing.

Below are a couple of pics showing the kitchen in its current state  Mr. Hubby took out the cabinets and tore down the drywall himself -- he's such a "stud" (more construction humor).

Forward Movement??

This GC is getting things done! GC is cool-construction talk for General Contractor.

First, I dropped off the kitchen reno plans to the county for their approval. Mr. Hubby thinks I'm a sucker for going through the proper channels, but that's what good GCs do. The woman at the Building Department was oh-so-nice, at first anyway. Well, let me clarify. She remained nice the entire time, but my lack of proper documentation made me start disliking her, despite the cordiality. She initially said my plans looked "awesome", but then she started asking these annoying questions: what's the lot number? parcel number? township? I'm renovating a kitchen here, lady, not running for County Surveyor.

She then wanted to see the deed to the property. The deed??? Oh, yeah, it's right here in my purse next to the gum. When I gave her my best deer-in-the-headlights look, she backed off and said they could "probably" process my application without it. Whew. I'm supposed to hear in the next week what my permits will cost. According to the website, I'll have to pay for a remodeling permit, a plumbing permit, an electrician permit and a were-you-really-this-stupid-to-apply-for-these-permits-when-you-could-have-gotten-away-with-doing-nothing fee.

Next, the structural engineer specs arrived. For any regular reader, you might recall that we'll have to hire workers who built the Great Pyramids, due to the complexity of the wall removals. Well, that should definitely come in handy since the specs are written in hieroglyphics. I consider myself a fairly intelligent person, but I cannot decipher one drawing on those specs, outside of a giant support column that occupies about half of the proposed kitchen.

And finally, a friend's husband, who just so happens to be a kick-butt GC himself during summers (he's a school counselor during the academic year), came over and gave me tons of advice last night. I was like a clueless note-taking student who doesn't know how to separate the salient points from the stuff that won't be on the test -- I was writing down EVERYTHING he said, including the name of a highly recommended contractor who MIGHT be able to squeeze us into his schedule and take down our walls.

So that's where I'll be at 9:00 tomorrow morning, begging and pleading for this guy to take our money and uphold our second floor. Wish me luck!

Zero Sum Game

Financial market theory dictates that one investor's profits equal another investor's losses. This maxim is sometimes referred to as a zero sum game. Mr. Hubby, who is a Business dude, often uses this theory to describe facets of our relationship: when I'm happy that Downton Abbey is on, he's miffed that I'm stealing the TV for, as he calls it, "English Porn". When he's excited about the 10 hrs of golf tournament TV coverage, I'm bummed for obvious reasons.

So why should this house reno be any different? Before we bought our currently groovy crib, I was enamoured with the possibilities and what the "before"and "after" shots looked like in my HOUZZ*-infested brain. He, on the other hand, thought we might have taken off more than we can screw (I'm not being perverse; that's construction humor, people!).

But the minute the final papers were signed, the tables took a sharp 180. What I originally had referred to as a "quirky" floor plan became just weird. And the whole patriotic second floor, which had made me smile so before purchase, became an overwhelming to-do list. At that point, Mr. Hubby took on my enthusiasm and revelled in the great deal we had gotten and how, with enough work, this could be our dream house.

Fast forward to this past weekend. Despite the house's current state, spring sunshine was flooding all the windows, and visions for improving each and every room were spinning in my little brain. I became excited once again. Meanwhile, Mr. Hubby was taking down a soffit in one of the bathrooms and having quite the hard time of it. Insulation was pouring on his head, as the wood refused to surrender to his claw bar. At that point, I came into the room singing the house's praises and telling him all my plans. He told me to shut up, and since he had a powerful tool in his had, I succumbed immediately.

Zero sum game, yet again. I guess it's a good thing. If we were both positive at the same time, the universe's magnetic field might lose its power. You've got to have the opposites attracting -- yin and yang and all that. And God forbid, we should both be negative at the same time. We might run screaming from the peeling paint and super-glued wallpaper, never to return again.

So I'll embrace the zero sum game that is our lives. I guess it's gotten us 22 years of marriage. Surely, it can gets us through a house renovation -- I hope ...

*Houzz.com is a website for wanna-be home designers like myself.

It's Possible!!

OK, here's my first lesson for all you crazy kids attempting to be a DIYer without any previous experience. Make sure you can make the changes you want BEFORE you buy the darn house!

All I want to do is take down two perpendicular walls between the kitchen and living/dining rooms. It's the whole reason we bought the house -- to open it up and make one big living space. So no problem, right? Removing walls is like brushing teeth on HGTV.

And I knew one of the walls would be load-bearing (you know, holding up the entire second floor). Although I'm not sure why everyone makes such a fuss about ensuring proper support if you tear down a wall. I just watched an episode of Love It or List It on the aforementioned HGTV, and an entire second floor had been supported by a mere 2x4 for 90 years!

But I know, I've checked the internet ... gotta make sure the second floor is supported, yada yada yada ... don't want to have your head crushed by a plummeting toilet, blah, blah, blah. No worries.  Just stick in a beam and/or column, and you're good to go, right? Not so fast there, beginner buddy. Did you know it's possible to have perpendicular load-bearing walls?? That's exactly what we are the proud owners of -- and we found out by chance. Our cabinet maker noticed it when he was over to discuss my kitchen design (well, "design" may be an exaggeration -- more like my attempt to jam in a bunch of cupboards in some semblance of order). He happened to notice the floor joists, and the next thing we know, I'm calling a structural engineer and worrying that our 1970's kitchen may be sticking around until it's retro-popular again.

Mr. Swift, the structural engineer without a sense of humor, comes to the house. Why do I think he's low on the laugh-o-meter? I asked if he was related to Taylor Swift and didn't even get a response. He was too busy verifying that our cabinet maker was right and that he needed to check out the basement and second floor toot-quick.

So after about an hour of him walking around, grunting things under his breath (like "Are these people crazy?" "Why does no one hire me BEFORE they buy?" --well, at least that's what I think he said), he tells me it's possible for us to remove the walls!!! Glory be!! But we're going to need beams the size of Delaware and a post akin to those in the Parthenon, not to mention the crane that will have to be in the basement holding up the whole darn house.

Lord only knows how much this is all going to cost, but what can we do?? It's GOT to be done (OK, "got" may be a strong word, but I want it!!).

So here I am, patiently awaiting Mr. Swift's specs and a list of contractors who worked on building the Great Pyramids. I think my budget is about to go down the proverbial toilet that, by the way, currently has dead bugs floating in it and desperately needs to be replaced ...

It's all HGTV's fault!!

Where do I get off thinking I can be a General Contractor with zippo experience? I'll tell you where I get this false confidence. It's from Love It or List It, Renovation Realities, Rehab Addict ... basically every show I've ever seen on HGTV or DIY.

And the Property Brothers? They're the worst. Jonathan and Drew, with their cute personalities and even cuter posteriors lure me into their rehab reality with the siren's song of sledge hammers and electric drills. Even the most complicated reno is neatly resolved within 60 minutes, and that includes the commercials.

And now I've gotten my innocent husband, Mr. Hubby, deluded as well. He thinks we can make this renovation work. He's even asked me to start referring to him as Destructo Boy and has conjured up romantic encounters where I'm a lonely housewife and he's the buff handyman.

The house in question is a 1978 pseudo-beauty that's on a tree-lined street we've admired for years. When we first went to the open house, we laughed at the red shag carpet, patriotic bathroom and mod-squad wallpaper. But even as we were chuckling, I couldn't get a certain word out of my head: POTENTIAL. I envisioned what the house COULD be, not caring a lick about its current state.

So here we are, almost a year after that open house. The house stayed on the market while I dealt with a cancer scare that took me away from house hunting for quite a while. I think the house was waiting for us to be its rightful owners. Mr. Hubby thinks no one else was crazy enough to buy it.

This will either be the smartest move we've ever made or will have us throwing away money like a small town heaving sandbags before the great flood.

Either way, it's going to be an adventure, and isn't that what life is all about??